Attempt
by Jenny Crosby
Summary: Fate - that which is inevitably predetermined; destiny. On that cold Friday night, fate had decided to do Kurt a favor by sending a savior his way.
1. Attempt

**Don't worry! I'm planning on this being a one-shot. It's **_**really **_**dark - you've been warned. Slightly AU - Kurt dropped out of New Directions mid-first season, around Sectionals. Karofsky did a **_**lot **_**more than just kiss Kurt, and he's never met Blaine.**

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><p>Kurt was never a fully happy boy. He had his dad. That was it. He was the only person in his life who'd never betrayed him or tortured him... or left him.<p>

He used to be in a glee club, New Directions. Stuck with them for around half a year. They might've been going places - especially that Rachel Berry - but he wouldn't be around to find out. The whole time he was there he was invisible. There was no change. If anything, joining glee made him feel worse about himself and got him thrown in dumpsters more often. So he quit. Right before Sectionals. They hadn't even noticed he'd gone, as far as he knew. He just stopped showing at rehearsals, and no one even bat an eyelash. It what was he expected.

His mother was dead. She'd died when he was eight.

He was bullied constantly. Shoved into lockers, slushied, threatened, beaten up, locked in closets, dumpster tosses, vandalized...and worse. He'd never forget that day when the big meaty jock stole something he'd never get back. Of course he'd kept all this to himself.

The breaking point was in October, when the jocks had snatched him on his way home and beat him with baseball bats and threw rocks at him until he was too tired to fight back. Then they'd just left him in the street to...what? Bleed? Die? Get run over? Kurt would never know.

Kurt came home every day in a daze, the same expression on his face. It was sad in the beginning, like he was just a sulky teenager - normal. But recently, he'd been coming home with his face completely blank. No emotion whatsoever. He'd lock himself in his room, do his homework and fall asleep. At least, to his father's knowledge.

Kurt Hummel absolutely hated himself and he hated his life. He wanted out, and the scars up and down his arms were sure proof of it. But it wasn't enough. Cutting wasn't enough to ease the pain. Kurt had always prided himself in being strong - but he wasn't anymore. He was broken. And he was exhausted from the effort of living. Putting on a happy face every day - a practice he'd given up long ago. Eating. Walking. Talking. Caring. _Everything. _He was done. Part of him hated that he was letting himself give up, but Kurt could easily silence that voice with a razor.

So on that Friday night, after having told his dad he was going to a sleepover (it was a miracle Burt believed him), Kurt went out in the woods with a rope.

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><p>On that same Friday night, simply due to fate, a seventeen-year old Blaine Anderson was in the same wood. He went their to write songs, mostly. He always came up with his best lyrics when he was staring up into the sky in a certain clearing, where the trees outlined the moon perfectly, the light shining down onto his notebook, serving as the perfect light.<p>

So, on that night, he was walking to his clearing, thinking. Not about anything in particular, really. His guitar at home. Projects he had yet to finish. So on and so on. He was essentially in his own world until he heard what sounded like a strangled sob. "Who's there?" he said, instincts kicking in. He heard it again. It sounded more like someone was crying than looking for trouble, so he followed the source. He walked in a part of the woods he wasn't completely familiar with, and he started to get anxious. _What if it's a trap? _ It wasn't. At least, not for him.

In the dark, barely visible, Blaine caught sight of a boy, tying a rope around a sturdy branch on a tree, sobbing quietly and muttering what sounded like a prayer. As soon as he began to wrap the rope around his neck Blaine was in action. "What are you doing?" he cried, running to the boy who hadn't even acknowledged him. He was closing his eyes. "Get down from there!" He wasn't very high up, maybe half a foot off the ground, but it was enough for the job to get done. The boy was already starting to choke.

Blaine climbed up the tree and the boy finally noticed his existence. "Don't," he choked out, and when Blaine began to untie the rope it turned into a scream. "Don't!" he shrieked, smacking his hands away, tears pouring down his face in buckets, eyes ablaze. Finally he managed to untie the knot and the boy fell to the ground. Not far enough to hurt him, and Blaine thought he was going to get up and run away, but he just lied there, sobbing quietly again.

Blaine climbed down from the tree and slowly walked towards the boy. He had never seen him before in his life, but something about him made the raven-haired boy want to get him to safety, and it wasn't just being a good person.

He kneeled down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Suddenly, the boy whipped around and slapped his hand away, and Blaine got a good look at him. He was ashamed that the first thing that came to his mind was how attractive he was. "What do you want?" he demanded, staring at Blaine like he wanted to spit at him.

"I wanna h-help," Blaine said nervously. Most people would have abandoned the kid by now, but Blaine wasn't about to.

"Why? Why would _anyone _want to help? Leave me alone!"

"Look, I -"

"I swear if you don't leave right now I'll -" Suddenly the fury was gone and his face was buried in Blaine's shoulder. Blaine refused to shed a tear. This boy needed someone, even if he didn't want anyone.

"C'mon," Blaine muttered, urging him to stand up - which he didn't. After several attempts, he finally settled on picking up the boy bridal style.

"H-help," the boy squeaked, and Blaine couldn't tell if he was trying to call for someone or speaking to him directly.

He knew it was a bad idea, but Blaine took the strange boy to his car and sat him in the passenger's seat. He looked at him for a while. He'd stopped crying and now looked completely blank. Blaine wouldn't learn until later that he'd just put up his walls.

"Hey," Blaine said quietly. The boy didn't look up. "Don't try anything like that again, ok? You could seriously scare somebody. You sure scared me."

"I don't care," the boy replied quietly. "I don't want this anymore."

"Want what?" Blaine said half-desperately, having absolutely no clue why he was so curious. The boy didn't respond, so Blaine changed the subject. "Where do you live?"

"I don't."

"You don't have a home?" The boy's limit seemed to be one question per subject, for he didn't reply again. "Well, what's your name?"

"Kurt," he said, spitting it out like it was the ugliest thing he'd ever said in his life. Blaine opened his mouth to speak again when Kurt continued, much too calmly for comfort. "Anything else you'd like to know? Because I was sort of in the middle of something."

"Kurt, there's no way in hell I'm letting you back out there." Kurt looked at him with pleading eyes. Blaine sighed. "C'mon, I'm taking you home. It's already...midnight. You can spend the night." He knew it was a long shot, that he'd only just met the boy, but he wanted to help more than he wanted to _breathe._

"No." He choked it out, crossing his arms defiantly. "I'm not going anywhere with you. You ruined _everything_." He said the words with so much hatred Blaine almost lost hope.

"Would anyone be looking for you?"

He looked at Blaine like he wanted to rip out his throat. Then, his eyes fluttered shut, and before Blaine knew it, he was either sleeping or out cold.

He knew there was probably some sort of law against it...but he had to help Kurt in any way he possibly could. He didn't know what was going on in his life, but he was ready to find out.

And just like that, he turned on the ignition and headed towards Westerville.

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><p><strong>Really dark, I know. I hope I wrote this alright. I know it's a really serious topic and I don't want to be disrespectful, but I'm not one to do anything half-assed, either. I hope this wasn't too exaggerated. I feel like Kurt's really just lost in this one. He's feeling a mixture of emotions all at once - anger, exhaustion, depression, defensiveness - and it's making him seem a little crazy because he's just too tired to control himself. I've never been in this situation, so I wouldn't know what it's like, but, hey, everyone's different, right? And it's midnight and I'm assuming he isn't taking very good care of himself, hence the falling asleeppassing out. If I offended anyone, please, no hate!**


	2. Waking

** I always tell myself, **_**it's only going to be one-shot. **_**But then I get 30 story alerts and another chapter emerges. You guys are going to be the death of me. Enjoy. :) **

**Waking.**

Kurt awoke to the sounds of someone banging around in a kitchen and the sizzling of bacon. He shot upright, immediately going into panic mode after realizing this wasn't his house. Worse than that, he didn't recognize the place at all. He tried to remember what had happened the night before. A boy had stopped him from...what he had stopped him from, but that was about all he could remember.

He shook his head vigorously, as if it would make the memories come, but it didn't. He knew he should be scared, but for some reason he felt more at ease than he had in almost two years.

Throughout the house, Vivaldi's Spring rang quietly and Kurt found himself rolling his eyes, because _seriously_? The house itself was very sophisticated, with glistening marble floors and glass French doors that led to what looked like a huge kitchen, where the clanging noises seemed to be coming from. Arrangements of red roses sat in incredibly long and lean glass vases on mahogany coffee tables spread throughout the living room tastefully. Directly in front of him was an at least 72 inch flat screen television, and it was then that he realized he was sitting in a mansion. Whoever owned this house was seriously _rich. _

"Oh, you're up," a voice rang out cheerfully, and Kurt looked up to see the boy who'd saved him walking through the French doors with an assortment of triangular little sandwiches and glass of water on a silver platter with yet another rose arrangement. Kurt merely nodded, not sure how to respond to the situation. The boy's grin remained planted on his face, and Kurt had to smile back because he was just so _endearing. _Like a little raven-haired puppy.

He sat down next to Kurt on the couch, setting the platter on the coffee table in between him and the giant television. "I made you some sandwiches, in case you're hungry. I know this is kind of weird, but I promise I'm not a serial killer or anything." Kurt chuckled quietly, still not entirely comfortable with speaking, but something about this boy made him so calm. He hadn't felt this serene since...well, ever.

"What's with, the, um...Vivaldi?" he asked tentatively.

The boy smiled. "My parents are big classical musical junkies. _Especially _Vivaldi." He chuckled. "I'm more of a Beethoven fan myself, but, hey."

"Do you play?" He looked at him with a puzzled expression and Kurt clarified. "Piano, I mean. Do you play the piano?" He wouldn't have been able to tell you exactly why he was talking to the boy who'd essentially kidnapped him. In any other case he would've been planning his escape as we speak. But he was glued to the spot, filled only with curiosity.

"Oh, yeah. Guitar, too."

"What's your name?"

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson." He smiled at Kurt, and Kurt smiled back.

"Blaine," Kurt repeated, loving the way the name rolled off his tongue. "I'm Kurt."

"I know." Kurt raised an eyebrow and Blaine quickly added, "You told me last night. Don't you...remember?"

"I don't remember much," he replied, tensing up at the subject. "All I remember is you untying the...knot." He choked out the last word and eyed the water. It looked perfectly clear, like it had been purified within an inch of it's life.

"Oh." They sat in an awkward silence for a while, neither of them sure what to do next. Finally, Kurt spoke up.

"Well, I'd better get going, I guess -"

"No!" Blaine said suddenly, causing Kurt to jump. "I - I mean, you don't know how to get home from here."

"I'm sure I can figure it out."

"Please, just let me drive you?"

Once they were in the car, Blaine turned on the stereo to try to fill the newest silence that had fallen over the two boys. He flipped through channels and channels of commercials and static before finally falling on a station playing "Rude Boy," of all things. The song was popular at the time - but that didn't make things any less awkward as they listened to the provacative lyrics. But Kurt had to admit, he liked that song.

Before he could really comprehend how _stupid _it was, he started singing along quietly. "I want, want, want, whatcha want, want, want, give it to me baby like boom, boom, boom," he sang quietly, moving back and forth in his seat absentmindedly. He didn't see Blaine turn to look at him as he continued singing. "Tonight, Imma get a little crazy, get a little crazy, baby," he growled, and Blaine had to literally force himself to draw his attention back to the road. "Commere rude boy, boy, can you get it up? Commere rude boy, boy, is you big enough?" _Damn it. _

This was messed up. Blaine was forming a crush on a guy he'd met after saving him from _killing _himself. And now here he was, flaunting his hotness and singing the dirtiest song played on top 100 radio stations. "I like the way you pull my hair." _Stop it. This kid needs a friend, not a _boy_friend, now get it through your thick skull! _

It was then Blaine realized he didn't really know where Kurt lives. He felt odd asking, however, having just insisted on taking him home. Besides, he didn't really want Kurt to stop singing. "Um, so, where exactly do you live?" Kurt turned to look at him.

"I knew you didn't know," he said coyly, cocking an eyebrow at him and throwing him a red-hot smirk that made Blaine blush. And Kurt noticed. "I live in Lima." He gave him the address and they were on their way again. The song ended and Blaine sighed dejectedly before blushing furiously after realizing _that was out loud. _ _Dammit. _

"This is it," Kurt announced, pointing to a white-ish house on the end of the street. Blaine pulled into the driveway and Kurt turned to him sheepishly. "Maybe you shouldn't come inside or anything. Dad might flip out that I have a boy with me. Y'know, a boy he doesn't know. Hell, _I_ hardly know you." _Wait. A boy he doesn't know? Does that mean...? _

"Yeah, you're probably right." Kurt began to unbuckle his seatbelt when Blaine said, "Wait." The glasz eyed boy looked up at him and Blaine said, "Can I give you my number?" _Nice._

"Excuse me?" Kurt replied, raising an eyebrow - but not-so-teasingly this time.

"I mean, I'm not putting the moves on you or anything." _Yeah I am. _"I just thought, y'know, if you're ever feeling down, you could shoot me a text."

"I hardly know you, Blaine," Kurt muttered, but he took out his phone anyway, half-smiling again. Blaine quickly dialed in his digits and handed the phone back to the gorgeous boy sitting next to him. "I'll text you," he called behind his shoulder as he headed for the door.

But he didn't.

** And we'll find out why soon enough. Also, frazzled!Blaine, jealous!Blaine, lovestruck!Blaine and puppy!Blaine are my favorite Blaines. Just for future reference, ya know. ;) Ok, reason Kurt's almost kind of perfectly okay in this chapter: he's with Blaine. **_**Duhhh! **_**And despite the fact he's just met the boy, something about him - as mentioned - makes him let his guard down. However, as soon as they part, it goes back up. Just sayin'. Until next time!**


End file.
